The last time I used heroin was on an otherwise unremarkable Monday in February, 2013.

I was 42 years of age, and had been using drugs since I was 12, when I discovered how they helped me avoid my depression and suicidal thoughts. By the time that Monday rolled around, I’d been addicted to heroin for more than 20 years. I’d been living on the streets for the better part of three decades navigating the hierarchies of gangs and prison, witnessing extreme violence and death, and dealing with the challenges of living on the streets. I wasn’t there because I was lazy, because it was easy, or because “recreational” drug use had been normalized and I thought it was fun. I was there because I didn’t know how to get out…